


Busted and Blind

by orphan_account



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Additional Tags to Be Added, Angst, Blind Character, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Murdoc being himself, Murdoc royally fucks up this time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-10-26 04:09:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10779282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After Murdoc Niccals has yet another violent outburst with 2D at the receiving end, the aftermath is more devastating than usual. A slow burn, in which Stuart has to unravel the thought process that goes on in Murdoc's head, and Murdoc does too. Or: Murdoc Niccals fucks up and 2D starts to lose his vision.





	1. The Flying Toaster Incident Of 2017

The mornings at the Gorillaz residence varied from uneventful to completely chaotic, and never fell anywhere between the two in the spectrum. Uneventful mornings usually saw Murdoc out of the house or in the garage, and the other band members doing normal, functional things like eating breakfast or preparing to go out for the day. Chaotic mornings were usually any time that Murdoc was in the house without enough beer in him yet (he was easiest to deal with when drunk), and either ended up with Stuart adding more bruises to his collection or the fire department called. Was there a frequent flyer program for firefighters or noise complaints? Russel would need to look into that. 

It was Saturday, and a day nobody needed to be anywhere in particular, no things needed to be discussed, and no recordings that needed to be completed. Outside, it was cool, but not unpleasant, and it had been raining on and off for most of the morning. So far, it looked to be a morning on the pleasant side. Not the increasingly common 'there are spirits living in the furnace and the oven is on fire' type of morning. 

Stuart awoke to his alarm blaring some sickeningly cheery pop station, and flailed his arm out from under his duvet, knocking into the clock radio harshly. The severely dented and scraped electronic slid off of the night stand and onto the carpet, unplugging the cord and rendering it silent in the process. He allowed his arm to flop bonelessly down, hitting the side of the bed with a muffled noise, and snuggled deeper into the nest of covers. He didn't feel like getting up just yet, though the rational and more awake part of his mind told him that the headache he felt beginning to surface would only get full blown unless he got up and took his medication. He really needed to pee too. Was that burning he smelled coming from downstairs? Ok, maybe he ought to get up.

Rising out of bed with the grace of a zombie that had been hit by Murdoc one too many times, he slid out of bed and made his way to the bathroom down the hall, adding bruises to his arms as he hit them off the walls in his half awake state. There was a definite smell in the air as if something had been burnt, but really, there were three other people in the house who were surely more awake than him. They could handle it. After closing the door and emptying his bladder, he reached in the vanity to look for his pills, not bothering to wash his hands. His search came up with no results, the cupboard only holding lube, tampons, toothpaste, a razor, and a toothbrush that looked like it had been in there for a year. Definitely not his, he took care of his remaining teeth thank you very much. He couldn't really afford to lose any more.

Shutting the cupboard and shuffling back to his room in his underwear, he tried to remember where his pills were, throwing on a shirt and a pair of jeans he had been wearing for a week straight that he had left on the floor. He knew that he had more, as he had gone himself to fill his prescriptions not a week before, as he had managed to get a drivers licence. He was very proud of that. What was he supposed to remember again?

Letting his brain wonder, he tucked his phone into his jean pocket and walked down the stairs down the hall, the floor boards screaming their protest, but not nearly as loudly as the screaming coming from the kitchen. Oh yeah, something was burnt, wasn't it?

"It's not my bloody fault that tha toaster is a jackass! Useless piece of shit I tell yah, shit! Look at it, can't even toast. What does that make it, huh? A toastless?"

"Good mornin' Muds!"

"Unh, "good mornin' Muds", yeah right yah dullard. Good fuckin' mornin' to yah too!" Murdoc mimics 2-D in a whiny, grating voice, and rips the toaster cord from the wall, throwing the appliance at the unsuspecting housemate before making a noise like a cat from the animal abuse awareness commercial that Stuart always hid from. It was a sad commercial. The toaster, which was previously on fire and still scorching hot, flew across the room and hit Stuart in the face, who screamed and panicked, backed into the table, and spilled hot coffee all over the floor. The toaster landed on the floor with a crash, and landed in the coffee, splashing the liquid up Russel's nice pants. 

Murdoc, less concerned with his burnt palms and more concerned with getting his hands around the singers neck (who was to blame for Murdoc burning himself in his mind, of course), determinedly trudged through the coffee, and went to beat the everliving shit out of the blue haired man, who was shuffling backwards across the tile to escape. 

"Faaaaceacheee"

"I didn't mean ta, I swear! I-I didn't mean it! 'm sorry!" Stuart was in a complete panic, and he felt like he was going to vomit. It was all his fault! He had made Murdoc hurt himself and ruined Russels pants, but he still feared being hit even though he deserved it. He was scared too, as the toaster had hit him right in the eye, and it hurt so badly he felt tears prick at his eyes. In the eye he could see out of, as he kept the injured one screwed shut, he saw Russel blocking Murdoc's way, and was yelling something at him. Stuart couldn't hear however, as his ears were ringing loudly and a migraine had began. 

Noodle was in the background now, stomping into the room, and while the blue haired singer was relieved to see her, as he knew she wouldn't allow him to be hurt, at the same moment Murdoc snarled and pushed Russel to the side a bit, which was no easy feat due to their vastly different sizes, and came charging over to him. He was picked up harshly by the collar, and and the last thing he saw before he hit the tile was a green, steadily approaching fist.


	2. Wake Up Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Russel tells Murdoc that he better get his shit together. That's pretty much all that happens. It's a short chapter.

2-D's head hit the tile hard, bouncing off of the unforgiving surface before laying limp on the floor. Russel was on the bassist at once, pulling him off the defenceless man with a harsh grip on his arm and forcing him out of the kitchen to get the two away from each other. Noodle hurried over to Stuart, worried as always whenever he got hurt, dark blue bathrobe wrapped around her. Russel pulled Murdoc down the hallway, leading him as far away on the main floor as possible as to keep the two apart, but still be able to check on 2-D. Leading him into the last room down the hall, he clicked on the light and tried to breathe evenly. Getting angry himself wouldn't help anything.

With Murdoc in the powder room, Russel closed the door and tried not to let the anger get the best of him. He wouldn't stoop as low as Murdoc. The Satanist ripped his arm out of the larger mans hold, letting his anger out by punching the wall, leaving yet another hole in the new plaster and making a sound of discomfort as he further injured his hands. Russel, being the better man, firmly took Murdoc's wrists and forced him to put his hands in the sink, turning on the tap to let the cool water soothe his burns. Neither man talked, other than Murdoc's initial hiss in reaction to the water, and both felt the tension in the air remain. Just as Russ went to open the door so he could go check on Stuart and give the other man a chance to bandage his hands, Murdoc let out a cackle that ended in a smokers cough.

"Really got the bastard good this time, eh? Bet he won't be doin' any photoshoots for a while. Whadda ya say, Russ?"

Russel turned abruptly at the last minute, reaching out to forcefully shut off the tap, causing the water to stop pouring over Murdoc's burnt hands. 

"This isn't somethin' to be proud about, man, beating up on 'em when all he did was look in your direction. You need to grow up before you really screw up one day."

"Last time I checked I was older than you Russss, you aren't my mother." Murdoc sneered, ignoring the larger man and opting to instead inspect his blistering hands.

"You're right Murdoc, I ain't your Mama." Russel began. Murdoc turned to retort, but before he could, the drummer was already talking again. 

"But you know what? I'm startin' to feel like I am, havin' to tell a grown man to stop hitting people. And don't you give me that story 'bout how your mama wasn't around when you was a kid. Noodle learned to stop hittin' other kids on her own when she came here, and she didn't have nobody to teach her that. Most kids learn to stop beatin' on their friends when they're five, Murdoc. You shouldn't still be doing that when you're old enough to have kids of your own, and you know it."

Murdoc sneered, leaning in toward Russel, who was starting to look at him in a way he didn't like. He felt like a child who came home from a schoolyard fight, and wasn't going to take any of that shit.

"Dents isn't my "friend" Russs , can't even go through a day without pissin' everyone in the country off. You know what? We can find another singer. Anyone can fucking sing. Then you wouldn't be on me about this every bloody day of my life, treatin' me like a-"

"Niccals, if 'D left you wouldn't know what to do with yourself. And you don't get to say that ain't true, cuz last time he did you kidnapped him. I've met people like you before, and none of 'em are still alive. If it weren't for him you'd have drank yourself to death years ago. You complain he doesn't pay attention to you, but you know what Murdoc? If I were him I'd have left your sorry ass years ago. He don't owe you a thing, and I don't know how he does it, putting up with you everyday of his life, actin' like you own him. One day you're gonna get a real wake up call when he leaves you so fast it'll make your head spin, because everything you care about will be gone. Just prepare yourself for that, Niccals, because every time you pull shit like this, the day he finally leaves gets closer. He won't be around to help you no more."

Russel left, calmly clicking the door shut, and Murdoc could hear his heavy footsteps grow farther away, making his way back down the hall. The Satanist stood in stunned silence for once, something heavy settling uncomfortably in his chest. Russel was wrong. He wouldn't miss 2-D, he didn't need him. There were plenty of other singers out there, and now that he was famous, he wouldn't have any trouble making another band. He'd done it before, and he could do it again. Besides, Murdoc thought with a bitter laugh, the dullard didn't have the balls to leave him anyway, knew that he would just come after him again like he did after he left for the first time. Dents would end up sticking around till he kicked the bucket doing something stupid. Ignoring the uncomfortable feeling that wouldn't go away completely, he gingerly opened the cupboard and pulled out their extensive first aid kit that they had purchased due to Dent's frequent injuries. Looking himself in the mirror, he tried to focus his thoughts on himself, not a certain blue haired man.

***

In the bathroom a few minutes later, Murdoc tried to get bandages wrapped around his hands but failed, the roll rolling off the counter as he tried to hold it with his elbow and crisp white cotton rubbing painfully on his burns. Kicking the toilet bowl in frustration, he tenderly opened the door with his other burnt hand. Sticking his head out the door, he opened his mouth to yell, before clamping it shut, catching himself in time. Snapping his head back in the bathroom like he had been shocked, he clicked the door shut agin, not caring about his hand. He had almost called for 2-D to help him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you find any spelling or grammatical errors, p,ease don't hesitate to inform me. I'm also aware that there is no 2-D in this chapter, but the next one will focus on him, and what happened.


	3. Migraines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2-D gets taken care of. Russel wants a break. Mild warning for vomiting, but the vomit is not described in itself. If you would like to read the chapter with those parts omitted if it is something triggering for you, shoot me a message and I can send you an edited one.

Noodle watched Russel drag Murdoc out of the kitchen, and sat down beside where 2-D was laying on the floor.

"Come here." She quietly addressed him, voice soft but raspy, as she was sick, and went to rest his head in her lap, noticing how absolutely battered it was. His eyes were bleeding everywhere, one from Murdoc's fist, and one from the toaster. He had burns along one side his face that were red and angry, and one of his eyes was swelling worse than the other. When she waited a couple seconds and still didn't get a response, she jostled him gently. "Hey Toochi, can you talk to me please?" She hoped that the nickname she had used for him when she was a child would be comforting, as his face looked like it hurt like hell. When she got no response, she realized that he had been knocked unconscious. Feeling her heart race, she checked his pulse, finding it strong, and put his head gently back on the ground, lifting his legs up a bit instead. She'd learned that in a first aid course she took at a local pool. About ten seconds later, although it felt much, much, longer, he began to stir.

Letting his legs go, gently placing them back on the tile, she scooted on the tile to kneel beside his head instead, soothingly brushing his hair back with her fingers. 

"Hey Stu, you're ok, you're in the kitchen. Can you say something to me please?" He looked up, startled, and she kept a firm hand on his chest, stopping him from getting up. "It's ok, you're on the floor. You passed out for a minute there." After a few seconds of him looking confused and trying to get up again, he looked at her.

"...hey Noods." She felt instantly relieved, some of the tension leaving her body. 

"Hey Stu." He groaned, going to touch his face and she stopped him, knowing it would hurt. 

"Can you stay there for a few seconds for me? I'm going to get something to clean you up with."

" 'k." After watching a few more seconds to make sure he wouldn't try to get up again, she got a clean kitchen towel and ran it under the water, squeezing out the excesses and making her way back to the doorway where he was laying, avoiding the puddle of coffee.

"I'm back. I'm going to clean up your face, OK?" He hummed in response, and she cleaned up the worst of the blood as gently as possible, trying to hold him down as much as she could as he twitched in pain, groaning. She had always been good at patching up the boys, even wanting to be a doctor when she was small. One that played guitar.

"Can I sit?"

"If you want to." She helped push him up, leaning him against the tall set of cupboards that held Russel's fancy plates, the sets he never let anyone but himself use, as he knew everyone else would break them. Russel had always liked delicate things like that, whether it was tiny plants, fancy plates, or expensive clothes. 2-D shut his eyes, and let himself rest against the cupboards. 

"I feel like I'm gonna be sick." He let his head lean back against the cupboards, focusing on breathing and not the pounding in his head and nausea. He dug his fingernails into his arms.

"Migraine?"

"Yeah." 

Noodle got up from where she was sitting on the ground beside him, squeezing his arm reassuringly before going to pour him a cup of tea from the pot on the counter. At least it had remained unscathed. 

"It's peppermint. Russ made some for me because I'm feeling under the weather too this morning." She watched as he took the half full cup, taking small sips of the beverage before offering her a pained smile.

"Thanks." His head was killing him, the tea made him want to throw up, he felt sick, and every word Noodle said hurt, but he didn't want to tell her to stop talking. He sat there with her, eyes closed and breathing measured for a while, no more than a few minutes, but what felt like an eternity, before Noodle spoke again.

"You're not looking so good." Noodle gently pried the cup of abandoned tea from shaky hands before Stuart dropped it, placing it in the tile with a clink. "Hey, have you got your pills from Russel yet?"

"Huh?"

"You gave the pills to Russ yesterday, because you weren't keeping track of how many you'd taken. He was worried about you."

"Forgot." He was going to be sick. He wanted to go to bed. He wanted Murdoc to stop hitting him. "I'm gonna throw up," he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut so hard that the one the bassist had hit started bleeding again, white hot pain making tears slip down his face. Noodle grabbed the garbage can out from under the sink lightning fast, being very used to finding something for Murdoc to throw up in during his hangovers, and placed it beside 2-D, grabbing a fistful of his hair back before he wretched up bile. He gagged, tears streaming down his face, before lying down on the floor again, ears ringing. He felt like a child. He tried to sit up, but decided it was too much effort at the moment. 

"Russel! Come here please!"

"I'm here, I'm coming. He OK?" Russel jogged into the kitchen, Murdoc abandoned in the bathroom, before he bent down to help 2-D sit up.

"He passed out for a couple seconds before, says he has a bad migraine, and doesn't have his pills. His face looks pretty bad." She furrowed her brow, pulling her robe tighter around her. 2-D was pretty out of it at this point, still trying to focus on his breathing.

"He passed out?" Russel whispered, mindful of Stuart's pounding head. "Does he know where he is? Do you think he needs to go to the hospital?" 

"Yeah, he was out for a little. Not to long though, less than a minute. He knows where his is, drank some tea. His head hit pretty hard, but let's wait a bit and see if we need to go anywhere." Russel grunted in response, holding Stuart as steadily as possible, who was groaning in discomfort, leaning on his arm. 

"I'm gonna go ta my room." Russel looked down at Stuart, whose face was an absolute mess, and the way he was lolling his head to the side.

"You sure you can make it up there?" The last thing he needed was for 2-D to fall on the stairs, as he was too stubborn for his own good and would rather risk injury than ask for help when he was like this.

"Yeah, 'm foine." 2-D leaned on Russel to pull himself to his feet, swaying in place.

"'D, you're gonna fall. Let me help you."

"Ok."

Russel let 2-D lean on him, and Noodle kept behind them both, making sure Stuart wouldn't fall.

"'M going to bed."

"I know man, we gotta get you in your room first, alright?" Russel wasn't all surprised that was all 2-D wanted to do about the situation, he always did when he was hurt that bad, which thankfully wasn't very often. He and Noodle needed to watch him like a hawk or he would just ignore his injuries, and keep popping pills. Making it into the mans room, he didn't bother switching in the light, laying him down on the unmade bed and letting Noodle go down the hall to get a trash can. 

"It 'urts."

"I know 'D, just hang on. Can I turn on the light?" 2-D nodded, so Russel clicked on the bedside table lamp, growing more concerned as he got a good look at Stuart's face.

"You're not lookin' too good. Can you open your eyes for me?" Noodle walked in, setting the trash can beside the bed before sitting down on beside 2-D, brushing back his sweaty hair. Stuart cracked open his eyes a fraction, almost instantly throwing up in the can, and Noodle made a remark about good timing to help diffuse the tension. 

"Can you see fine? Anything weird?"

"No." That didn't really help. The drummer couldn't really tell what question he was trying to answer, but he hoped it was the second one.

"Is it blurry, are there spots or anythin'?" Stuart opened his eyes again for a few seconds before closing them, the injured one not opening all the way due to swelling.

"Blurry, but I get like that sometimes during headaches."

"Ok. Tell Noods or I if it changes, yeah? I'm gonna go get the kit from Murdoc to patch you up. Do you want both the pills?" Stuart had pills that were supposed to help the headaches, and had secondary ones to take if the first ones weren't strong enough. 

"Please."

"Ok. Be back in a bit." Turning to leave he stopped when he heard Stuart say something.

"What was that?"

"Is M'udoc alright?" Russel was once again becoming angry, but trying not to let it show and upset 2-D, as he would probably take it personally. Murdoc hadn't even asked if Stuart has been fine, and he must of known that he had gone unconscious. Stuart cared a lot about Murdoc, and Murdoc treated him like a joke in return. 

"I'm sure he's just fine, don't you worry about him right now." 

"Can you check on 'em for me?" Letting out a sigh, Russel turned to 2-D and smiled at him, but he was sure it didn't reach his eyes.

"Yeah, if you want me too, 'D."

"Thank you." Russel left the room, but not before sharing a glance with Noodle that showed that she thought about as highly of Murdoc as he did at the moment. 

***  
"Ah, Russ! Perfect timing, as always. Help a guy out and cut this will ya?" Russel stood beside Murdoc in the bathroom who had the shittiest bandaging job he had ever seen wrapped around his hands, a piece of medical tape wrapped around the catastrophe, still attached to the roll, being the only thing holding it together. 

"Christ, man, just let me do it properly. Do you have any ointment on under that?" Sure, he wasn't too fond of the green tinted bassist at the moment, but he would rather not have him get an infection and listen to him whine about it. Murdoc, who had literally cringed at the inclusion of the word Christ, proceeded to wave his careless bandage job around, knocking the tape roll onto the floor so it unraveled and stuck to the cabinet on the way down.

"Don't need any of that fancy shit. It can heal on its own. Just cut the bloody tape."

"You're a licensed doctor, you know damn well it helps. Let me do it from the beggining, there's half of your hands left stickin' out."

"Fine, fine, just go ahead and waste your time, I ain't gonna stop 'ya." 

After Russel had fought the tape off the counter and cut off the waste of bandages on Murdoc's hands, he did them up properly, not feeling sorry at all when he saw how red and blistered they were. He deserved a lot more than that, in his opinion.

"Thought you said Satanists couldn't burn."

"Oh shut up." Russel took great satisfaction in the way Murdoc sneered at him. "How's faceache doing? See, perfect name, really suits 'em now I bet."

" You knocked him out Murdoc. He said good morning, and you went and knocked him unconscious." Russel prepared for an outburst but was mildly surprised when he didn't receive one, Murdoc looking almost...worried? No, that certainly wasn't it. He was bad at reading Murdoc anyway. 

"Is he up now? Any memory loss? He coherent?" Once again burying his disbelief, Russel answered him.

"He's up. Noods and I got him into bed, and he's talking. Asked how you were." Hey, he had to rub salt in the wound somehow.

"Of course he did, the dullard can't go for an hour without missing me." Russel, packing up the first aid kit and checking that he still had 2-D's pills in his pocket he had snagged on the way to the bathroom, bit his tongue to keep from snapping back at Murdoc. All he had to do was go bandage up the singer, give him his pills, and then he could deal with Murdoc. Stuart was more important. 

"I'm going to go patch him up. If you could clean up the mess you made in the kitchen, that would be great."

"Now wait a minute 'ere, who's the doctor of the house? I'll go patch 'em up, you go fix the kitchen, because I'm sure as hell not doing it. Everything in there hates me." Not having the energy left to try to force Murdoc into something he didn't want to do, Russel put the red and white box and pill bottle carefully on Murdoc's outstretched and bandaged palms, going to deal with the mess himself. He didn't trust the man with 2-D, but Noodle was up there, and he couldn't hit him too well with the state his hands were in. 

"Ask Noods if she wants anything to eat while you're up there for me." Russel asked, currently rummaging through the closet down the hall for a mop. 

"Yeah, yeah, just go clean up. Everything will be fiiinnneee."

For some reason that Russel had no problem guessing, he felt a headache coming on as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some points for this chapter:  
> -The story takes place in phase 4, so Noodle is an adult.  
> -We do not know much about her personality in this phase yet, but I see her as a very capable woman who always knows what to do.  
> -Although 2-D comes off as someone that gets hurt a lot and is always needing help in this chapter, it is simply because he's in a lot of pain. I feel that he is actually very capable, especially considering the fact that he has quite a bit of brain damage and memory loss, and can take care of himself just fine for the most part. He is also very aware that his and Murdoc's relationship (non-romantic at this point) is abusive.  
> -This story takes place in the house seen through the Gorillaz app, so if you want to check that out, you can see what the band members bedrooms look like  
> -Some of the areas, like the main kitchen and bathroom, can not be viewed as of yet, however.  
> -Yes, it is cannon information that Murdoc is a licensed Doctor, and that thought is terrifying in itself.
> 
> Finally, thank you for all the kind comments! They mean a lot, and I read all of them. I am aware that this chapter does not have a ton going on, but I should update again soon.


	4. Unusual Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even when Murdoc is the cause of 2-D's pain, he's usually there to pick the pieces up. Eventually.
> 
> Or: Old man fights stairs and back pain.

Murdoc made his way up the stairs, grumbling in annoyance as his stair lift still hadn't fucking come. He'd ordered the bloody thing months ago, and every time he called to complain he got some bullshit excuse that seniors homes were prioritized. Some load of crap that was. 

His joints had gone to shit years ago, definitely through fault of his own (though he'd never admit it), and carrying the first aid kit with two pill bottles precariously balanced on top of it certainly didn't make the distance any easier. Sure, they had an elevator, but it was too far away from 'Dents room to make the walk to where it was located worth it, and the noises it had started to make as of late were beginning to become worrying. The last thing he needed was to be stuck in a falling box of death, thank you very much. He'd still let 'Dents use it though.

Reaching the top of the stairs with as much grace someone who had two burnt hands and couldn't hold the stair rail could, he walked down the hall to where Stuart's room was located, dropping one of the bottles on the way and cursing. Kicking the wall in frustration, he opted to shuffle the bottle down the hall with his foot, as bending over was a bitch on his back, until Noodle came down the hall and took pity on him, placing the bottle back in his arms. He scowled at her, as she was clearly sick, and he didn't want it getting worse.

"Whater ya doin up? Go get some rest."

"I'm feeling a lot better than when I woke up. Stuart's doing a lot worse than me, and I had to feed his fish for him."

"He can take care of the bloody thing himself, it's not your problem. Go to bed." Noodle sniffled, and Murdoc gave her a look, as she clearly wasn't feeling her usual self yet. 

"I will, Ok? I'm not little anymore, Muds. I know when I have to rest." She gave him a look, and he sighed in defeat. She was right, he still sometimes thought of her as younger than she was, and had to remind himself that she was old enough to have kids of her own now. Actually, he didn't really want to think about that. 

He saw Noodle glance at the pile in his arms, and narrow her eyes further. When she realized he was going to see 'Dents, she didn't look very impressed, and proceeded to cross her arms over her chest. How she could still look intimidating in a bathrobe with a bright red nose, he didn't know. He was very proud of that. Meant he had raised her well. 

"And don't even think of laying a hand on 2-D. What's gotten in to you today? You usually don't snap at nothing." 

Opting to dodge her question, as he really didn't know what to reply, he walked around her to stand in front of 2-D's door, covered in Polaroid pictures of the band together, and stickers he'd got from all the venues they'd played at. Rolling his eyes like the mature adult he was, he set the bundle of supplies on the floor so he could grip the doorknob, and looked back at her.

"Yeah, yeah I'll be real nice tha dullard, kiss his feet and an all. Make 'em forget it ever happened." Noodle, knowing it was the best she would get, gave him a pointed look before going down the opposite end of the hall. 

Once she was far enough away, Murdoc swung open the door to 2-D's room, clicking on the light and picking the items back up off of the floor. His back made a cracking noise and he winced, promising himself that he would get 2-D to do something for him. He owed him big. 

Walking through the bead strings hung in the doorway and making his way over to the bed, Murdoc threw the medicine bottles at the lump under the covers once he was close enough before pulling out the chair from under the desk in the corner and collapsing in it, grateful for the break.  

"Get yer lazy ass out of bed an' take yer drugs." After a few seconds with no response, he heard a noise come from under the blankets that was probably complaining, so he got up again, going to rip them off the person cocooned under them. "Oh for the love of- Get up!" He proceeded to pull the green fistful of blankets back none too softly, as he had had no time for this shit, ready to tear a new one into the person he had to waste his energy fussing over. Couldn't even sit down for two seconds with faceache in the house.

Murdoc froze once he saw 2-D's face, his thought trailing off, because sweet Satan, it looked like he had been in a bar fight. He had his eyes squeezed halfway shut, as he couldn't close them all the way due to swelling, there was dried blood caked in his hair, half his face was red with blisters beginning to appear, clearly burnt, and he had a cut down his cheek. Overall, he looked like shit. Guilt tried to rise to the surface, but Murdoc stomped it down, angry at himself for even feeling that way. Stuart had done it to himself. 

"Not gonna be on tha cover of any magazines this month, eh Potts?" He watched the blue haired man flinch when he spoke, scrunching his face up. 

"Can you turn off tha light, please?" Stuart's voice was quiet and pained. Murdoc, instantly realizing that Stuart had a migraine, turned off the lights and grabbed the pill bottles off of the bed. Making sure to not talk, as he wasn't that much of a sadist, he popped open both bottles with great difficulty and shook out two pills of each. Actually, screw it, he wanted some too. 

Grabbing Stuart's disgustingly clammy hand, he put the correct dose of pills in his fist, and watched him swallow the mittful dry. Following suit with just the pain relievers, Murdoc pulled the covers back up around 2-D before putting the caps back on the bottles and placing them on a keyboard that was on a stand at the and of the bed. He'd get Stuart's face fixed up later, as he needed to write a prescription for some burn cream, as well as pick up some anti-inflammatories and saline solution from the pharmacy. Maybe he'd get Russ to do it, as he sure as hell wasn't driving with the state his hands were in. 

"Your eyes alright, Dents?" He whispered, trying not to hurt 2-D's head too much.

"They 'urt, but I can see." Murdoc made a noise of acknowledgement, before patting his pocket lightly.

"Hey, you have any fags?" Stuart groaned and pulled a pack from his jean pockets, placing them on top of the covers as well as a lighter. Murdoc was on the pack like a dog on a bone, lighting up and waving one out towards Stu in a silent question.

Taking one and holding it between his fingers to let Murdoc light it, Stuart tried not to focus too much on the fact that Murdoc was just ignoring the part where he had beat him unconscious. Whether he didn't want to bring it up, or simply didn't care, 2-D didn't know. Probably the latter. They smoked together in silence, the air tense, before Murdoc put his cigarette out on the ashtray and nudged 2-D in the leg.

"Move over. I'm laying down." Stuart, clenching his jaw from the shock of pain being moved had caused, shuffled over as smoothly as possible on the bed, stopping when he felt his arm touch the coolness of the wall. Murdoc made the bed dip when he sat down, joints cracking in protest, and Stuart felt him take the cig still in his mouth. He was too tired to complain, only letting a small noise of pain escape when Murdoc kept moving to get comfy once he had lied down.  
Laying in now comfortable silence, Stuart clenched his hand into the sheets when he realized his hand was an inch away from Murdoc's. 

2-D had had very limited physical contact with anyone for years that wasn't harmful in some way. Sure, he got brief hugs from Noodle and the occasional pat on the back from Russel, but it never lasted for more than a few seconds, and made his heart ache for some reason. He silently mourned not being able to just lean against someone on the couch while watching T.V, or being able to hold someone's hand. The man couldn't even bring anyone home anymore, as Murdoc always found out and interrupted, causing him embarrassment when the Satanist would either scare them off, or go fuck them himself. 

2-D had always been a very tactile person, wanting reassurance in the form of a hug or kiss on the cheek from his parents when he was little, as well as Rachel and Paula when they had been together. Losing Paula was still one of the hardest things he had gone through, as he was sure they would end up as something more one day, but he had found the hardest thing about losing her was that he never thought Murdoc capable of doing something so awful to him. Sure, he had always been physically abusive, but he usually tried to let 2-D keep the things that made him happy, and the betrayal he felt was almost worse than the realization that he and Paula were through.

The thing that had really started him however, was something he had realized a few months ago, when Russel was in America visiting a family member with steadily declining health and Noodle was away with some friends for a week. He had stood downstairs in the living room with Murdoc, ready to purposely clink a bottle of beer against the table a little too loudly, when he had realized that he sometimes did minuscule things that he knew would set Murdoc off, just so the other man would get up in his face, either pushing him out of the way or hitting him lightly in warning. Certainly nothing as bad as what Murdoc had done today, as the man almost never left a mark other than small bruises, but just enough so he wouldn't feel as though no one wanted to touch him. Being pushed away was better than being ignored for weeks on end. He certainly knew it wasn't healthy, and was kind of depressing if he thought into it too much, but it made him feel a little less alone.

The hand belonging to the cause of the troubling thoughts was so close to his that he could lean his pinkie out to tap Murdoc's palm, and he wanted to brush their hands together so bad it almost hurt. But he didn't think he could handle being hit anymore this week, as he was drained from energy and still in a lot of pain, as well as having to face the fact that Murdoc's hands were still wrapped in gauze. Rolling over to the side so he could look at the bassist, as he needed to reassure himself that the other man was still there, he froze, realizing that he was being watched by mismatched eyes.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" Murdoc whispered, and for some reason that made Stuart want to reach out and touch him even more.

"N-nothing really."

"Figured as much. Go ta sleep." Trying to not think about what Murdoc has meant by the first part of his statement, he rolled into his back as he couldn't take laying on his side anymore, the pillow rubbing against his swollen eye. 

"I can't Murdoc, my head 'urts."

"Try." Stuart closed his eyes, doing as Murdoc had ordered, but his head continued to pound and his eyes remained painful, and soon he was becoming desperate. He was so tired that he couldn't get up, but he felt like he would never sleep again. Tears sprang to his eyes but he didn't know why, probably from stress and exhaustion, and he fidgeted in place, not letting them fall. He had acted like enough of a child today. 

"Come under the covers with me." He asked, anxiety clawing at his insides as he knew it was stupid to ask that the second it came out. So much for not acting like a child, he though, remembering how Noodle had stopped crawling into his bed when she was twelve. The question had just escaped, slipped past his lips, and now he felt fear rise in his chest. Murdoc was going to hurt him. He stopped breathing for a moment, body tense, and when he didn't get any response, a tiny plea escaped him. "Please." He didn't even recognize his own voice, exhausted and desperate. It remained still for a couple seconds, and just when he was going to peek at Murdoc, he felt the other man rise and get off of the bed. 

"Get some sleep, Stuart." Murdoc replied, almost softly, and then he shut the door, forcing Stuart to listen to the muffled sound of him walking off down the hall. Stuart wanted to reach out to him, but was frozen when he realized Murdoc had called him by his real name. Comforted by that fact for some reason, he closed his eyes, and was out like a light. He could mull on it tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I like to imagine that since Murdoc had taken the bare minimum amount of care towards his body, his joints are shit and can be heard creaking halfway through the house.  
> -2-D has a betta fish named Blue, who he stole from a fancy restaurant in a water glass because the poor thing was being used as a centrepiece at his table and he felt bad for it. Murdoc secretly likes it, and Noodle wants one of her own. Russel doesn't really care either way, as long as he doesn't have to clean the tank.  
> -2-D is very touch starved after his time on Plastic Beach, and is afraid that people don't want to touch him. He is very self conscious about his apperance, and thinks that people think he looks like a freak, not pretty.  
> -Murdoc is a doctor so he writes Stuart's prescriptions for him, as the poor man is scared of doctors after medical tests he had to undergo when his eyes were hurt the first time.  
> -They are currently living in Kong Studios, according to the app, and it has an old elevator.  
> -I like to think that they did some renovations to Kong Studios after they came back, but the house went back to its usual disaster pretty quickly. Except Noodle's room. She makes sure to keep it stellar, and nobody but her and Katsu are allowed in.  
> -Stu has a poster of Murdoc on his wall he uses as a dartboard, but Murdoc truly hasn't noticed it yet. Everyime Murdoc comes in, 2-D nearly has a heart attack.


	5. Blurriness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdoc tries not to think too much about parts of the relationship between him and Stuart, and Stu realizes that something is not right with his eyes. Or: Man would prefer not to hide a body, and other man crawls down a hallway. That's it folks. Slight warning in this chapter for homophobic launguage. It's not dialogue however, but I'm still going to warn anyone who it might trigger.

Murdoc sat on his bed, leaning against the wall, a half full bottle of beer in his hand and a fag between his lips, Cortez perched on an outstretched arm. Setting the beer down to take a drag of his cigarette, not wanting to use his other arm and possibly disturb his precious bird, or course, he thought of Stuart. 

He'd admit to himself that he might have gone too far this morning, that he maybeeee shouldn't have hurt the dullard as much as he did, but in his defence, he hadn't really been planning on that much damage being done. Who knew toasters were such a hazard. He hated that he felt a little bit guilty about it, but the poor bastards face was looking a little worse for wear, and he knew he must have been in a lot of pain if he was acting as stupid as he was earlier, asking Murdoc to come under the covers like a needy faggot. Putting out the fag on the ashtray beside the bed, he took another gulp of beer, letting his head lean back and rest against the wall, Cortez leaning in at the noise it made. 

It hadn't always been this bad, the way the two of them fought. Sure, they had never really had been chummy with each other, but after the kidnapping-er- island vacation incident, which was all just a misunderstanding anyway, the way Stuart interacted with him was strained. 2-D wouldn't hesitate to talk to him, wishing him a good morning or asking what he was doing, as even though they lived under the same roof they rarely saw each other. He usually stayed in the Winnie or his room, and Stuart's headaches had been awful as of late, forcing him to rest in his own section of the house. But no matter how often they saw each other, or how openly 2-D approached him, it was always as if he was anxious, anticipating something. Where before he would sit on the couch beside him and they would go out to eat together, it seemed as though Stuart was avoiding doing things alone with him, keeping his actions measured in both movement and words. He couldn't imagine why.

But at the same time, some days he would swear to Satan that the dullard was asking for a beating, doing things that he damn well knew would piss him off, almost going out of his way to get Murdoc to rough him up a bit. Murdoc wheezed out a laugh at that, causing Cortez to let out a mimicking laugh in return. Maybe the bastard got off on it, being a powerless little faggot, knowing that Murdoc had power over him. The green haired man smiled at that, liking the way it made him feel. Power was a good thing, and thinking of 2-D being as desperate as to seek out his attention was intoxicating somehow, knowing how much hold he had over the other man. Russel was so, so wrong. Stuart would never run away from him, would continue being his little worshiper, always in debt to him until the day his miserable life ended.

But sometimes Murdoc would look at his pathetic little face, with its empty black eyes and smile with missing teeth, and feel like he was powerless. When he would smile at him first thing in the morning, or look at him with that stupid little tender expression he got sometimes, or even earlier today, when he had looked up at him so pathetically, fear in his eyes. That face, although just begging to be punched, would stir something in his chest that made him almost sick, something far too gentle for a man like Murdoc Niccals to even acknowledge without going soft, and he would hate himself for it. Absolutely fucking hate himself. Sweet Satan, he didn't want to think about it. He was far to sober for that right now. Perhaps Russel had been right about one thing, Murdoc thought bitterly, throwing back another mouthful of alcohol. Maybe he would drink himself to death. Things would certainly be less complicated then.

***

Stuart woke up in agony a few hours later, migraine miserable and face in blinding pain. Blinking his damaged eyes open and giving them time to adjust, he spotted an outline of something on his keyboard, his favourite Roland, that wasn't there earlier in the day. Grabbing it and bringing it into his nest of blankets, he saw it was one of the pill bottles. The extra strong ones that always helped to ease the pain. Struggling with the cap and popping it off, he greedily grabbed a fistful, swallowing them dry and feeling them scrape his parched throat. One of the side effects was dry mouth, and he knew the extra few pills wouldn't help with that in the slightest, but if it helped to ease the pressure in his head even by a fraction is was undoubtedly worth it. 

Capping the bottle again and fiddling with it in his hands, he felt how much lighter it was than it had been when he picked the prescription up. Had it really only been a few days ago? He knew that he should be troubled by the half full container, but couldn't bring himself to care when they helped this much. He'd taken much more before and they hadn't harmed him. Besides, he was sure Murdoc took some too, so he wasn't the only one responsible for the depleting amount of capsules. Somehow, 2-D thought, Murdoc was always responsible for taking something from him.

*** 

An hour later the pills had finally began to do their magic, putting him in a mellow and hazy state from the sheer amount he had taken, but also helping the pain that had burrowed itself deep under his eyes. For some reason, however, the pain persisted to be unbearable, and even when he took a few more pills, it got to the point where it refused to let up. He was sweating profusely, wrapped up with the blankets in a death grip around him, and he was breathing shallowly from the pain. He had tried to get up, but the room had spun, causing him to throw up all over the floor. His eyes would bleed off and on for a reason he didn't know, and his face felt dirty from where the blood had dried, patchy in places where he had scratched it off. It hurt. He didn't know how much longer he could do this. 

There was a voice in his head telling him to go get someone NOW, as something was clearly wrong with his eyes in particular, but he didn't think he even had the strength to make it out of the room. Besides, he thought, it must be late, and everyone was in bed. Well, maybe not Murdoc, but he didn't want to face him yet after his earlier slip up. He'd rather not find out why Murdoc hadn't snapped at him, as he usually just kept his pent up anger to use at a later date. 

Stuart focused on his breathing again, trying to slow it down, trying to think of anything but the pain. Think of Blue, think of your songs, think of Noodle going to a theme-park for the first time when she was little, the way Murdoc looks when he was plays bass, the way Russel smiles. He couldn't get himself to focus on anything however, thoughts leaving almost as quickly as they had come, and he gave up, letting them race. 

Whenever he opened his eyes, which hurt so bad he feared he would fall unconscious again, he saw his vision getting blurrier, and as of a while ago it was so bad he was unable to read the spines of his books on the shelf across from the bed. He tried to open them now, as he hadn't tested how his vision was in the past half hour, and managed to pry them open, his eyelids sticking together from the dried blood. He could see about the same as he had an hour ago, but now there was an odd black patch at the bottom of his vision, worse in the left than the right, that wouldn't go away as he blinked. Looking up and down, the black bars wouldn't go away, and although it wasn't too much, only about 1/5 of his vision they blocked, it terrified him. 

Heart racing, he threw back the blankets with a surge of adrenaline, standing up and swaying in place, feet landing in his own bile as he'd forgotten about throwing up earlier. He staggered, holding the peak of his dollhouse bookshelf for balance, making tacky footprints across the floor. He edged against the wall, unable to think properly due to the pain and lightheadedness, trying to make it to the door. He couldn't yell, as he'd tried to before, his voice too shaky and his mouth feeling like a desert, tongue itchy and sand dry. 

He made it to the door, tangling himself in the bead strands, and tried to find the doorknob. It wasn't there. It was gone. Clawing at the door in desperation, he hit his elbow off of something hard, grounding him. The doorknob was on the other side of the door. Twisting it weakly, he wasn't prepared for the force it would swing open with, his weight pushing it open, and fell into the hallway. He lay on the floor, sobbing dryly, beads having been pulled from their fastenings, long stands tangling around him like jellyfish. 

He had to get up, but found he was too weak, opting to drag himself along with the beads down the hall. He had to get Russel. His room was right next to his. He'd be ok, he just had to get Russel. Repeating his mantra in his head, he found Russel's door, only about six feet down the hall. It had felt much, much longer. 

He lay on his stomach in front of the door, scratching his bitten nails down the wood and pounding as hard as he could. Nobody came out. Where was Russel? He cried, tears and blood cascading down his face, hitting the door over and over, going into hysterics. His fingers were bleeding, staining the bottom of the door red, and he gave up, curling up in a heap on the floor, losing his ability to think clearly. Russel had left, he didn't want to see him anymore. Russel hated him. He needed Murdoc. Murdoc never left him. He would help him. 

Clawing down the hall, wheezing and hyperventilating, he tried to make it to the next door. It took him a long time, pulling himself inch by inch, until he came to rest beside the next door. Murdoc's. He went to knock like he had at Russel's but couldn't lift his arms, absolute exhaustion taking over. He tried over and over again, lying on his side on the cold disgusting floor, feeling himself give up. He was getting increasingly weak, and wanted to sleep. He knew he couldn't though, clearly aware what was happening, as he used to watch all those National Geographic shows with animals dying with Noodle. They always got like this right before they died. He didn't really want to die now. He was scared. He didn't want to die. He needed Murdoc to help him. 

With the last surge of energy he could muster, he kicked the door with his bare foot as hard as he could, the final strength of a dying animal, desperate to be saved. His toes slammed against the door, the pain giving him more strength, and he kicked again, weaker this time, but loud none the less. The door wrenched open so fast his head spun, and his leg hit the ground. He heard yelling but couldn't hear it, sobbing in pain and relief, body wracked with sobs. Murdoc had him. He was safe. 

Murdoc started kicking him, bare foot connecting with 2-D's soft, rail thin side, and yelling obscenities. The bastard had woken him up, banging at his door at three in the bloody morning. Sure, he hadn't been asleep or anything, but he'd heard the dullard banging down the hall for nearly ten minutes now. He'd heard him at Russel's door too, the dunce clambering around like a toddler. What the fuck was his problem, anyway, rolling around on the floor. Must be drunk, or high on pain meds. Probably both. 

Murdoc paused his assault when long, skinny arms wrapped around his leg, not shying away from the blows. Stuey had his face buried in his bare leg, clutching the green skinned man like a lifeline. Something wasn't right, the dullard always tried to get as far away from him as possible when he was getting the snot beat out of him. Maybe he'd finally fried his brain, too stupid to understand what was happening anymore. Sweet Satan, Murdoc thought in horror, please don't turn into a vegetable again. He didn't think he could take care of an adult in depends again, one could only do that so many times before they snapped and killed a person. 

Shoving the taller man onto his back with the heel of his foot, Murdoc froze, blood running cold. Stuart was a mess, bleeding everywhere and white as a ghost. He was absolutely sobbing, clutching Murdoc's pant leg still, and to his horror, whispering his name. He'd truly lost it, Murdoc thought. He was going to have to kill him. He just couldn't take feeding a grown man puréed foods for months another time. 

Murdoc was on the ground in an instant, kneeling down and getting wrapped in Stuart's weak arms, which were clutching at him and holding him close. He hated the way his own arms went to wrap back around Stu, heart always going sickeningly soft when the source of the pain the dullard was in didn't come from himself. Ok, maybe it was partly from himself at the moment, but that didn't count. 

"What 'appened Stu? What 'appened to ya?" The younger man was inconsolable, however, sobbing and bleeding, burying his head into the hair of Murdoc's bare chest. Murdoc held him, propping him up on the floor and muttering to him, telling him how stupid he was and how he'd make it stop hurting. He noticed the blood on the bottom of his door, and the drops down the hall. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he was scared along with 'Dents, shocking him into action. They needed to get him to a hospital.

"RUSS, RUSS!" He tried to pick Stuart up but couldn't, his hands hurt too much, and the other man was much too tall. He was panicking now too, yelling at Stuart that he was retarded, a fuck up, how he would be OK. He held him, letting the other cry, and heard Russel call back from somewhere downstairs. 

"RUSS, COME 'ERE!" Stuart had stopped crying now, lying limp against him. He was still awake, but kept closing his eyes. Russel ran in, frozen for a minute, having noticed the blood. He had never been good with blood, but it had become something he was understandingly terrible with after the shooting. Murdoc snapped at him.

"Call a fuckin' ambulance! What are ya doin', standin' around?!" 

"Jesus." Russel pulled his cell from his pocket, dialling something and walking out into the hall where it was quiet, pacing. Noodle was in his room now too, babbling in a mix of Japanese and English, brushing back 2-D's hair and trying to get him to tell her what was wrong. She helped him lay Stu on Murdoc's bed, and they waited for Russel to get off the phone 2-D groaning beside them. The fucking idiot was going to die on them, the satanist thought, and they would blame him for killing the man. He couldn't go to prison again! Maybe he should get Russ off the phone and go deal with 'Dents himself, that way if he died he could hide the body before they came knocking. But that still wouldn't stop the band from breaking up. What would he do about that? 

"Muds? 'M scared." Oh Satan, sweet, beautiful Satan. He wouldn't have to go to prison after all, and they wouldn't lose the band. Everything would be fine. 

"What's wrong wit' ya?" Stuart reached out towards him, seemingly a little less hysterical, and Murdoc lay down beside him on the bed, Noodle having left to talk to the person on the phone with Russel a couple seconds ago, occasionally peeking her head through the door to check on 2-D.

"My eyes 'urt really bad." Stuart started crying a bit again, because really, when wasn't the dullard blubbering about something, and Murdoc slapped his hands away when he went to wipe at his eyes, not wanting him to hurt himself any further. "I can't see good, it's blurry."

"Still?" Stuart nodded, and took deep shuddering breaths, shaking and clinging to Murdoc, whose mind was screaming at him to both hold him and kick him off the bed. 

"I can't see much, 'm scared. 'M gonna die."

"Oh shut up, yer not gonna die." Well, Murdoc certainly hoped not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -In this chapter, our poor Stuey boy has a concussion, which is why he's acting so disoriented.  
> -I like to think that Murdoc automatically thinks of the worst possible outcome to any situation, say Stuart dying instead of, you know, passing out at worst.  
> -I also think he would think of things that would inconvenience him in a situation first, not how the other party is suffering.  
> -No, 2-D is not going to die. Not even close. He's convinced he's going to though, and wonders who will come to his funeral.  
> -Cortez is probably one of those birds who just loves to imitate creepy noises, a fact of which Murdoc is very proud.  
> -Russel hates the thought or sight of blood after the shooting, and begins to feel faint. That's why he had to go out in the hall.  
> -In this story, Murdoc is aware that Stuart is into both woman and men, and has been with both genders himself.  
> -He is still hiding that he likes men however, or at least thinks he is, as all the others know (and are completely fine with it, of course).  
> -I write this story on an iPad, and it likes to autocorrect "Murdoc" to "Mud cock" which makes me snort with laughter every time.  
> -Unrelated to the story, thank you so very much for the comments and kudos, y'all think this is much better than it actually is. I'm not complaining though.


	6. Ambulance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The band prepares to have Stuart transported to the hospital, and Murdoc accidentally shows a bit of his soft side. Just a bit.

Noodle never thought she'd live to see the day that 2-D and Murdoc got along for more than an hour, but here they were, laying beside each other without even a hint of violence. If it were a less urgent situation, she would have pulled out her phone to take a picture, simply to prove to herself the next day that she hadn't been imagining things. 

The dark haired woman watched from the doorway as the two of them lay on top of Murdoc's bed, the bassist talking softly to the man beside him, awkwardly running his dirty fingers through Stuart's shock of blue hair. Stu looked quite pathetic, with his head buried in Murdoc's chest, and she felt a hint of annoyance bubble up as she watched the two. Murdoc had been the one to hurt 2-D in the first place, and now the poor man was seeking him out for comfort, as always. Stuart was much too attached to the bassist than what was good for him. Murdoc would probably bring up how amazingly selfless he had been to hold Stu when he cried, and use it to his advantage in the future, guilting the singer into doing something for him. As much as she knew it would come back to bite Stuart, being so invested in such a horrible person, she knew not to bring it up. After all, she had put up with the bassist for all these years as well.

Noodle had left to pack a bag for 2-D in case he had to stay overnight at the hospital, and when she'd returned to Murdoc's room she had found the two in their current position. Russel was still on the phone, and occasionally would come in the room to ask either of them questions the person on the other end wanted answers to. Stuart seemed to be calming down, closing his eyes and mumbling the answers to whatever Murdoc or Russel asked him. She was glad that he seemed to be stable for the moment, her panic gradually beginning to subside.

Murdoc finally noticed her as she entered the room, and he and quickly snapped to attention, pulling his hand back from 2-D's head and trying to look indifferent. Stuart blinked, confused from the sudden movement, and groggily asked Murdoc what the matter was. Noodle resisted the urge to roll her eyes. 

"Got everythin'?" Murdoc leaned up on an elbow, glancing at the bag at her hand and papers held under her arm, trying his hardest not to look at the singer laying beside him. Noodle was glad he at least seemed to be worried about Stuart, as it was much better than his usual indifference whenever he was hurt. Which, frankly, was more often than not in this household. She lay the bag down on the bed, and reached over to squeeze Stuart's hand in reassurance.

"Yeah, I think so. I couldn't find any of his pills or his retainer. I found his wallet and ID though."

"I have his pills with me still." Murdoc looked down at Stu, who murmured something into the bassist's chest that made him grumble, exasperated. 

"An' apparently, he lost his retainer anyway. What did ya' waste my time for then? Makin me take ya' to all those fancy appointments of yours. Do ya' know how much the bloody parking cost? A fuckin' scam, I tell you, rippin' off-" Noodle cut him off, sensing a rant coming on that they didn't have time for, and saving 2-D from worrying about something that didn't matter at the moment. Russel said the ambulance should be coming in less than half an hour, and Murdoc was in his underwear. She was sure the paramedics had seen worse, surely, but it would be nice if they were all as prepared as possible. 

"Can I put the bottles in the bag? I'll watch him, go get some pants on." 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going. Here." She caught the bottle tossed at her, and slipped it into the side pouch of the duffle bag. "I don't know where the other fuckin' bottle went."

" 'S in my room." 2-D lifted his head to look at Murdoc, who was rooting through his dresser, trying to find a pair of jeans. Apparently realizing this was not a good idea, he hissed in pain, letting his head drop back onto one of the pillows. 

"Why's it in yer room? Yer not suppose' 'ta have 'em."

"You left 'em in there." Murdoc groaned at the comment, pulling on a pair of pants and grabbing a shirt to put on.

"Can 'ya keep an eye on 'em Noods? I'll go get tha' bloody things." Noodle nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed and making sure 2-D didn't get any worse. Russel came in the room, having hung up the phone.

"Anythin' I can do?" 

"Yeah, get tha' dullard some pants." Russel looked over at 2-D, who was in his underwear as well, curled up in pain and weakly protesting that he could go get some himself, which both of them knew was a lie. 

"Relax, man. I'll jus' get you some shorts or somethin'. Jus' rest up." As Russel looked through the bag Noodle had packed, Murdoc made his way to 2-D's room, on a mission to find his missing pills before they had to leave.

When the green skinned man sauntered down the hall, fly still unzipped, he noticed the beads that were usually hanging above the entrance of 2-D's doorway were scattered in the hallway and the door was already open. Leave it to Stu to make a godamn mess of everything. Pointedly ignoring the blood on the floor, he entered the small room and crinkled his noise, a particularly unpleasant smell reaching him. What the fuck had the dullard been doing in there? It had been fine earlier. Flicking on the lights, he groaned as he saw the puddle of what appeared to be bile on the floor. Bloody hell, 2-D couldn't let an hour pass without someone having to clean up after him. Oh well, he certainly wasn't cleaning it up anyways. The bastard could do it himself once he felt better.

Spotting the missing bottle on the bed, he maneuvered around the disgusting puddle to grab it off of the comforter, capsules rattling in protest. At least they hadn't been too difficult to find. As much as he loathed to admit it to himself, he was worried about Stuart, and didn't want to leave the poor sod alone for to long. After all, he could baby him for a little so he could use it as leverage in the future. A fantastic idea, really. 

Zipping up his fly, he made his way back to his own room, shifting the bottle around in his injured hands. He paused, mentally weighing the container compared to what it had felt like a few fours earlier, and carefully popped the top off, hissing at the pressure he had to apply to his palm as he held the top down and twisted. Inside, there were far less capsules than there had been after he had given 2-D his dosage (and stole-er borrowed a few for himself), and all that remained were a few measly pills sitting in the bottom. It wasn't a big bottle, sure, and the capsules themselves were fairly large, but if the dullard had ingested all of the missing pills it would have to have been quite a few. 

Realization hit Murdoc like a bus. That's why Stu was so tired and acting odd. He had initially been stumped by why the dullard had gone from annoyingly whiny to a sack of potatoes in a few hours, but he guessed he now had his answer. Shit, he thought, shaking the bottle to even out what remained in the bottom. That was a lot of pills. 

Murdoc Niccals didn't run, that just wasn't something he ever bothered exuding the effort for, but he sure as hell picked up the pace, joints protesting as he hurried back to his own room. He reentered the room, winded at a jog that had only been down the hall, and rushed back to Stuart, vaguely hearing Noodle ask him what the matter was. The dullard was slumped over, eyes glazed, and when Murdoc grabbed for his hand it was cold and clammy.

"Stu. Stuart." He cupped the side of the other mans head, trying to get him to look at him, grasping 2-D's wrist with his other hand, trying to judge his pulse. 

"...yeah?" Sweet Satan, he was glad to hear his voice. His pulse seemed to be slightly weaker than what it should ideally be, but it wasn't too urgent at the moment. He was fine, Murdoc told himself. He would be ok. The ambulance was coming. He would be fine. 

Mantra looping in his head, he let Stuart wrap his skinny arms around him again, head resting in the junction of his neck. Fuck, the reason Stu wasn't unconscious yet was probably because he took too many of the damn things all the time, popping a pill whenever his head so much as throbbed. Built up a tolerance of some sort. That's why Russ and him had taken the bloody things from him in the first place, to keep him from overdosing everyday, walking around not fully aware of anything. Both him and the drummer had witnessed far more than their fair share of overdose related deaths, as growing up in the shittiest areas of town had exposed both of them to people passing out in the street and not waking up from a young age, and he knew Russel was anxious that 2-D would pop one too many and become one of those cases as well. Scared as hell that one day Stuart would go out for groceries and not come home, and the cops would show up to tell them he was gone. He didn't know how Russ really felt about it, but it sure as hell terrified him. 

Trying to ignore his racing heart, Murdoc squeezed the singer back, giving him an actual bloody hug, and hell, he realized that he hadn't ever hugged Stu before. Noodle for sure, and he'd been hugged by Russel, but never 2-D, always shoving him away before he got the chance. Fuck, he didn't know why this was getting to him that badly. Stuart would be fine. Maybe, he thought, he was getting a bit softer with age. He'd have to keep an eye on that, wouldn't want it getting worse after all. Next he'd be looking at bloody kittens and volunteering at orphanages.

"Wha's wrong wit' you Muds?" He held Stuart for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut before letting him go, pulling apart from him and trying his damned hardest to glare at him and not show how worried he was. 

"What the fuck were ya thinkin' Stu? Ya' took so many pills." The singer recoiled at his tone, which was shakier than he would have liked, but coming off as more angry than fearful. That was good.

"What?" Noodle was next to them now, or had been all along but he hadn't noticed, and sat down on the bed beside them, looking concerned. "What's going on? Murdoc, are you Ok?"

"This bloody idiot 'ere took half a bottle of painkillers in less than a day. Was popin' 'em like candy."

"Stuart! How-"

"They're here!" They all jumped at Russel yelling from the main floor, and Noodle glanced at Stuart, worry evident in her face, before giving him a kiss on the cheek, grabbing the things the blue haired man needed to have with him. 

"I'm going to go meet them downstairs and give them your info and bag Ok? I'll see you there."

" 'K." Stuart groggily answered her, and Murdoc nodded at her as she left the room, hearing her voice down the hall and heavy footsteps approaching the door.

"Good evening. This is Stuart Pot?" There was a large brunette woman and blonde man with a collapsible stretcher at the door. Murdoc grunted, nudging Stu with his elbow on the bed. 

"That's 'em alright." 

There was a flurry of activity, with Russel and him standing back to let the two work, asking questions about allergies and how his injuries occurred. Murdoc gave them the bottles of medication, and told the paramedics how much the other man had ingested. Russel's head snapped to face him in worry, but Murdoc ignored him. He would open that can of worms with him later. 

After they loaded him onto the stretcher and prepared a shot of naloxone, Stuart informed them he had been hit by a toaster, which had caused his eyes to bleed, and they were both professional enough not to show any reaction that would indicate surprise. Murdoc supposed they'd heard more unusual things before. At least the dullard didn't have something stuck up his ass. Stu was quickly carried downstairs, as Murdoc didn't trust the elevator to hold three plus a stretcher, and the singer was loaded into the ambulance, Noodle already downstairs and talking to another paramedic who had the papers and hospital bag. Murdoc tried to follow Stuart, but was stopped by the brunette lady, who was getting ready to shut the doors.

"I'm sorry sir, but we can only allow the patient in the ambulance. We advise that someone stay behind to pack a bag with clothes and toiletries in case the patient is required to stay overnight at the hospital. If you wish to accompany him, you will have to drive down in your own vehicle." Before Murdoc could butt in and argue with the poor woman, Russel quickly spoke up, knowing that the green skinned man would want to go with Stuart. 

"That's fine. We'll drive down an' meet him there. Already packed up his stuff. Which hospital are you takin' him to?" After finding out the name of the hospital and holding back a seething Satanist, Russel watched the ambulance pull out of the driveway.

"Let go of me! Are ya gonna let 'em-"

"Murdoc, we don't have time for this shit. Go get in tha' car if you're coming, or imma leave without you." Russel was relieved when the bassist turned around, exasperated, and began to walk towards where the car was parked, swearing up a storm. He turned to Noodle, who was still in her robe and slippers in the driveway, eyes with bags under them and face flushed.

"Baby girl, you look awful. They ain't gonna let ya go see 'em when you're this sick." The woman sighed tiredly, before wrapping her arms around him in a quick hug. 

"I know. I'll hold down the fort, but you have to text me and keep me updated on how he's doing, ok?"

"I will. Hopefully we'll see you soon." Walking towards the car with the keys that Noodle had given him in hand, he prepared to deal with Murdoc in the car. The ride was short, but it sure as hell didn't feel like it with a Satanist who had been awoken at the crack of dawn backseat driving. Truly, Russel thought, what didn't go wrong with the four of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truly do apologize that this chapter is all filler, and that it took so long to come out. Hilariously enough, I had to have my own little ambulance ride this week, and am still in hospital, which is why I haven't been able to update. The next chapter should be out much faster, as I hope to be discharged this week, and have much more content than this. Thank you for all your support through your comments and kudos-it means a lot, and I never expected people to actually read, let alone like this story. With that behind us:
> 
> -Murdoc and Russel grew up in shitty areas, and are very used to drug related problems, having been exposed to them since a young age.  
> -Murdoc actually does care about Stuart as a person, not just as a singer to help him gain popularity and money, but almost never shows it, especially not physically, unless it involves violence.  
> -Naloxone is an injectable 'antidote' that is administered after a patient has or has been suspected of overdosing, and it only takes a few minute to take effect.  
> -My friend is a nurse, and says a truly unbelievable amount of people a year come in with foreign objects shoved up their asses. She says about 50% of the time the patient will claim they fell on it. Yes sir, I'm sure that shampoo bottle with a condom on it conveniently slipped up there on its own.  
> -Paramedics can get you on a stretcher and loaded into an ambulance in record time. They're seriously impressive.  
> -I'm doped up on some seriously wonderful drugs at the moment, so hopefully this makes sense. I'm nearly positive there are errors, so just shoot me a comment if you spot any.


	7. The (Feel) Good Stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdoc and Russel make their way through the hospital system. Vaugley based on experience.

Russel Drove in silence, having switched the radio off when he entered the car. It just felt wrong, listening to cheery music when the mood was the opposite. Murdoc was unusually quiet too, only occasionally rolling the window down to have a fag, the familiar scent of tobacco filling the vehicle, tendrils of smoke mixing with the cool night air. On any other day Russel would tell the other man to quit stinking up his truck, but he didn't have the energy to deal with the argument he was sure would follow at the moment, instead trying to preserve the silence as long as possible. He was tired, they were both stressed, and he just wanted to focus on driving as fast as one could without getting into a crash in the dark or pulled over by the cops. There was luckily less than ten minutes left until they would arrive, according to the GPS, and Russel sped up, as the roads were bare and he hadn't seen any police cars. 

"Aw, shit." He looked over at Murdoc beside him, who was pulling out his phone and dialling someone. Russel looked in his mirrors to make sure no one was behind them. 

"What's wrong?"

"I gotta' phone Noodle before we get there. Left the bird out. He'll eat the stupid fish." As Murdoc waited for Noodle to pick up, Russel slowed down as he saw the first sign indicating that the hospital was close, turning off his phone and going by the directions on the signs instead, trying to figure out where the emergency department was. They'd had to take Stuart to the hospital many times in all the years they'd known each other, but not this one in particular. Murdoc had finished his brief conversation, and nudged him to point out the illuminated sign pointing to emergency arrivals, rolling up the window. 

"Over there."

"I'm turnin'. We'll have to find 'D when we go in. Does he have his phone on him?"

"How tha' hell would I know?" Russel managed to find a parking spot, ignoring the other man, and heard the click of Murdoc's seatbelt releasing before he'd stopped, never one to wait for anything. After parking and locking the car, they made their way to the doors, entering the hospital. It was packed, not at all unexpected for a Saturday night, and the line of people waiting in front of the check in desk was long, almost to the door. He heard Murdoc curse beside him.

"Wanna' try to ring 'D? Tell him we're here if you can reach him?"

"Yeah, yeah, go wait in tha' line. I'm goin' outside. Too loud in 'ere, can't hear a bloody thing." Russel went to stand in line behind a lady with a sobbing toddler in her arms, looking around the waiting room. There was a truly incredible amount of people, almost all of the seats filled. He knew Stuart wouldn't be there, but still found himself keeping an eye out for anyone with blue hair or empty eyes. Murdoc came in a few minutes later, and Russel waved him over, as even more people had joined the line, often parents with children, and his view was begging to become blocked. 

"Any luck?"

"Nah, Dents didn't pick up. Sweet Satan, is the whole bloody country 'ere?"

"It's a Saturday. People leavin' it to the weekend to get checked out. Line's movin' fast though." Sure enough, they made it to the desk in less than twenty minutes, a time which even Murdoc was impressed with, and Russel smiled politely at the lady behind it, who was clearly exhausted after the sheer amount of people she had had to deal with. She smiled back, though it was obviously forced, and looked over at Murdoc instead. 

Quickly looking him over, with his awkwardly bandaged hands held in front of him, trying not to brush them against anything, she held out forms and a clipboard to Russel, as the bassist obviously couldn't hold them himself. 

"Help him fill these out and bring them back when you're done. He should be able to be fast tracked if his injuries aren't serious. May I see a form of identification and insurance information sir?"

"I'm bloody fine! I don't need no one pokin' at me!" She looked at him with a combination of confusion and an expression that clearly said 'then why the fuck are you in the emergency room on a Saturday at four in the morning'.

Russel smiled at her again, his best 'I'm so sorry my friend here is an asshole' expression in place before setting the clipboard back on the counter and sending a glance to Murdoc that told him to shut up before they got kicked out. 

"Ah, we're sorry, you must have misunderstood. We're actually here looking for a family member who arrived by ambulance a couple of minutes ago." She looked back at Murdoc's hands with a raised brow, before apparently deciding that it clearly wasn't worth questioning, and directing her attention back to Russel. Wise lady, he thought. Everything always went as smoothly as possible when Murdoc was ignored. 

"Can you tell me his name and your relation to him, please? I'll send the information on to someone that would be better suited to help you. I'll also still need to see a form of valid identification for each of you."

"His name's Stuart. Stuart Pot. Goes by 2-D though, has bright blue hair. Can't miss 'em. We're his... uh.." 

"Partners." She didn't even react at that, clearly having realized that nothing about the two of them was easy or normal to deal with, and wrote everything down on a notepad, taking the drivers licenses slid to her over the counter to write their names down. 

"Ok, thank you for the information. If you go and take a seat someone should be with you shortly to update you on his whereabouts."

"Thank you 'mam." Dragging Murdoc off by the arm, feeling much like the mother of a petulant teenager, Russel led the other man over to the crowded waiting room. Thank god the paediatric emergency waiting room was separate and all the way down the hall, as he was sure any parents would not be pleased with the vulgar language coming out the unkempt man wearing an upside down cross at the moment. Russel would gladly take any small blessings he got today. 

"I don't need my bloody hands looked at, they're perfectly fine. I'm not going ta' wait an hour to let some old geezer point out the obvious."

"Jeez man, calm down, she just assumed 'cuz you're all bandaged up. No big deal, nobody's pokin' you. Just sit down." Really, the littlest things could set off Murdoc when he was stressed, and Russel wasn't looking forward to keeping him quiet in a room of people. The bassist was able to stay still and quiet for about twenty minutes before he started to get irritated, tapping his foot against the ground and swearing under his breath. Eventually, a man who he presumed was a nurse came to tell them that 2-D was stable, but they could not see him as he didn't have a room yet and was being examined. This of course set Murdoc off on a rant about having to wait and how he would go find 'Dents himself, forcing Russel to lead him outside before they were asked to leave.

In the cool night air, where it seemed incredibly quiet compared to inside, he could hear Murdoc's breathing, fast and anxious, and saw him pawing at his pockets for a fag. Russel let him light one up and calm himself down a bit before speaking up. 

"Look man, you've gotta' cut this shit out before they toss us out. He'll be fine, you just gotta wait 'til the doc's done with him. You wanna wait in the car or somethin'? I can wait in there and phone you when we can go in." 

"It's fine, just give me a moment, will ya'? Taking long drags of the cigarette, Murdoc sat on the curb, Russel leaning down to join him, sitting in silence. The bassist exhaled slowly, smoke curling into the air, before breaking the silence a while later.

"Jus' reminds me of when he was in a coma, ya know. Thinkin' he'll be that bad again. Didn't give a damn the first time, hoping he'd kick the bucket so I'd get outta' takin' care of em'. Can't lose 'em now, though, or I'll be out a band." Russel didn't say anything, acknowledging that he'd heard Murdoc with his presence, and just listened. "The bastards grown on me too, hadn't even roughed him up for a while. Guess I'm goin' soft, eh Russ?"

"Nah, you're still a grisly old bastard. Don't worry bout' that." Murdoc laughed, coughing violently due to years of heavy smoking, making Russel wince. The laughing died down and Murdoc stomped out his cig, looking out over the rows of cars.

"Meant to do it too, this time. See, that's the difference Russ, first time I din't know he was there, the idiot. Made my life a whole lot messier, I tell ya'. Fucked 'em up real good this time too. I feel sorry for the dullard, really. Didn't mean to hit the eyes, ya' know? Know that's a bit of a sore spot for 'em, don't wanna 'urt 'em too bad. Just a bruise or two, nothin' major." Russel saw his foot tapping the ground again, and noticed his breathing has gone shallow and quick. He got that way sometimes too. Bad anxiety. Murdoc would never admit he had it though. 

"You're overthinking it man. What's done is done. We'll see what it comes to and deal with it from there, it might just be a bruise like you said. Let's just forget about how it happened for now and see how to make him better, Ok?" He didn't ask why Murdoc had hit him in the first place, just trying to get him calm for now so they could go back in and see Stuart.

"Yeah, well, that just fixes everythin' right up, doesn't it Russ? Let's just leave it alllll in tha' past. Why dontcha' go drag Stuey boy out of the back for us and we'll all laugh about it, drive home and sing kumbaya in tha' car?" And there it was, the stages that Murdoc Niccals went through. Denial, guilt, and anger. Every damn time. Russel didn't want to deal with it right now. 

"Murdoc, I'm not arguin' with you today. You know what I meant. You've fucked up bad, but you can't change it, so sit your ass down and wait. I know you're worried about him, I understand that, but snappin' at the people tryin' to help him won't make him better. Calm down so we can go back in, or go home, I'm not dealing with you." Murdoc didn't answer him, but worked on letting his anger out, pacing back and forth before seeming to relax a bit. 

"I know, I know. Fuck, I'm gettin' too old for this shit, Russ. Let's go back in. Don't wanna' talk about it any more." 

"You sure?"

"Yeah, can't leave old Stuey boy in there all by himself after all, might start bluberin' again. Bit of a wimp, that one." Russel rolled his eyes, getting up to walk behind Murdoc, who was already going back through the automatic doors, probably going to chase down some poor nurse. He knew that Murdoc was nervous that Stu would be more injured than they initially though, wouldn't be calm until he was sure the other man was going to be fine. Murdoc could complain and insult the singer until he was blue in the face, but he would always crawl back to make sure the other was okay. Russel didn't get any of it, and hell, maybe Murdoc didn't either, but at least he seemed to have a bit of decency left. Maybe a smudge.

The bassist had already found the poor man from before, and his loud instantly recognizable voice carried throughout the room, even over the many people talking. It was a gift really, how loud and annoying Murdoc could be. Made everyone want to give him what he wanted as soon as possible to get him to stop talking. Sure enough, Murdoc was already following the other man down the hall, a smug expression on his face, gesturing to Russel to follow him. It was quite a far ways down to where 2-D presumably was, and Russel finally caught up to them once they stopped at the elevators, not the fastest walker in the world by any stretch. 

"His room ready?" The nurse, Reid, according to his name tag, turned to look at him. 

"Yes, to the best of my knowledge he's in a private room. There should be someone with you that would be more informed about his condition when we get there." Russel nodded, and the elevator eventually came, everyone entering and letting Reid press a button that led to a higher floor. Once they exited and made their way down another hallway, this floor considerably less chaotic than the main one, they stopped in front of a door.

"I'm just going to go check to make sure he's not with anyone first, if you could please wait outside." Murdoc grumbled about something, and they both waited for the door to open again, Reid coming out with a woman beside him in similar attire.

"Hello, you're related to Stuart Pot?"

"That's us." She smiled, not phased by Murdoc's grouchy demeanour. 

"I'm Veronica. I have been working on Stuart since he arrived via ambulance, and have been assigned to inform you of his condition. He's awake right now, and has given permission for you to see him, as well as make you aware of his treatment plan, so I'll just give you the run down of what we've done so far, and the rest will be shared with you by the specialist assigned to his case. He had in fact overdosed on his medication, and as is the case in all overdose situations, one of our mental health specialists has already spoken to him to rule out the possibility of him being an immediate danger to himself. It was concluded that he intended to take the medication to stop the physical pain he was in, and there appear to be no suicidal intentions." 

"Of course there isn't you bloody-"

"Sir, wait until I finish speaking, then you may ask any questions you may have." Russel resisted the urge to smile, as this lady was clearly so used to dealing with assholes like Murdoc that she didn't even bat an eye. "Adding on to that, we performed blood work to test organ function and checked his vitals all of which appear in the normal range except for mild dehydration. A physical examination was performed, and fluids and intravenous painkillers have been administered. He is being treated for minor burns and abrasions. The patient has stated that he is in no pain, and does not appear to be in distress. As his case is very unusual, due to his existing medical condition, two hyphema fractures, as I'm sure you're aware of, he will need to see a specialist to hopefully provide a diagnosis and treatment plan. Additionally, an ophthalmologist is not available at this time, so he will have to remain in hospital overnight until he can be seen by one tomorrow, who may run additional tests." Russel feels his head spin, because yeah, that's a lot to process.

"So, uh, can we stay overnight with him?"

"Usually, family members of adult patients can only be present during visiting hours, but since the patient is in a private room, a pull out bed is available. This being said, due to hospital guidelines only one person may be with him during non visiting hours, meaning you will have to go in one at a time, and only one of you may stay overnight." 

"Oh for the love of-" Cutting Murdoc off, as was his specialty, Russel nodded at the nurse, completely understanding that the hospital didn't want three grown men, two who weren't being treated, smushed into a room. 

"Sure, yeah. I'll go and see him and then head home okay? Come back tomorrow when I can visit. You wanna' stay with him?" Russel already knew the answer. Murdoc would be a nervous wreck if he had to leave him behind overnight. 

"Yeah, yeah, It's always me who gets to babysit, eh? Fine, go home and sleep all cozy, leavin' me 'ere in the pullout bed with the dullard." Murdoc could pretend all he wanted that he didn't want to stay, bit the man would never be this easily convinced to do something he didn't want to. Russel would allow it, as long as he didn't snap at anyone. The nurse seemed relieved that there was no argument, and knocked on the door, waiting to make sure there was no protest before looking over at Russel.

"I'll let you in to see him now. I have other patients to attend to, but someone will be in to check on him within the hour." 

"Thank you miss." Opening the door and leaving Murdoc in the hall, he walked over to Stuart's bed, where he was propped up and attached to a couple of machines. His face was bandaged, crisp white against blue hair, and he was looking at the T.V, not seeming to notice anyone enter. "Hey man, feeling better?"

"Russ!" He smiled, gap teeth showing, and Russel felt his own lips twitch up. His smile was infectious.

"Hey 'D. They gotcha' on the good stuff?" Stuart seemed to take a couple seconds to process that, grinning at him.

"Yeah. I'd like this all 'a tha' time." Russel laughed, because 2-D was obviously high as a kite, and went over to stand beside the bed. 

"Not gonna' happen, man. Nice try though. I'm gonna head home, OK? Tell Noods what you're up to. Murdoc's gonna' come see you." 

"'K." Russel mussed up his hair, relieved that he was on something that took the pain away, and went over to where Stuart's bag was sitting, looking for his phone. Locating it, he went and placed it on the bedside table. 

"I'm gonna' go now, text me if you need me. Your phone is right here."

"Bye. Love you." Russel laughed, confusing the blue haired man who hadn't seemed to realized what was unusual about what he said. 

"Love you too man. Get some rest." Russel couldn't wait to leave him with Murdoc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guess who's discharged from the hospital! Anyway, I'm sorry the updates have been slow, but I'm trying to put my health first. I've also been busy preparing to welcome some foster animals into my home. As always, inform me of any typos.
> 
> -Everyone knows Murdoc cares about Stuart, but Murdoc thinks he's fooling them all.  
> -Yes, if insurance pays for a private room some hospitals allow another person to stay overnight, as there is usually a pull out bed.  
> -Usually there is someone to update family members on a patients condition and treatment plan.  
> -Before anyone brings this up, no Stuart does not love Russel romantically, but loves him as somewhat of a brother.  
> -I forgot to mention in previous chapters that Cortez is not the original Cortez, but another bird Murdoc got after the original passed away. He still seems to have a bird of some sort (a raven or crow) as there is one on his shoulder on the alternate picture for the Humanz cover. In this story, he has another bird he named after the original, and the original was taxidermied by Russel and sits in the display case in his room. This can be seen in the Gorillaz app.  
> -In this story, it was mentioned that Stu had a retainer, as I imagine one with that large of a gap would be advised to wear one so that teeth don't migrate anywhere they shouldn't.  
> -I wrongly stated that they seemed to live in Kong Studios in previous notes, but it appears they live in Spirit House with a Knog sign indoors. My bad. It doesn't change anything in the story, however, as the room descriptions are the same.  
> -I feel like everyone is terribly out of character in this chapter, but I couldn't seem to get it to work. I'm not too pleased with it, and hope the next chapter is better.

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfic. Constructive criticism is very welcome.


End file.
